


Cursed to Follow, Blessed to Lead

by anarchycox



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Banter, Cursed Characters, Fighting, Fluff, M/M, Seasickness, Snark, broken story telling, flash backs, happy ever after, he is much colder to the situations, monsters are warm for jaskier's form, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26411740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: In this world, Geralt never met Jaskier until well after he was responsible for Ciri. Without the humanizing influence of the human, he is not the man he could be. On the path Geralt enters a Gwent tournament and finds himself with the prize of a cursed bard, whom he quite literally cannot get away from. He is determined to break the curse and rid himself of the annoyance, and continue on his loner and stoic ways.Jaskier and fate of course have very different plans.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 298
Kudos: 381
Collections: Witcher Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to thenerdyindividual for her betaing the fic, and an extremely huge thank you to maximproving the incredible artist who went so very above and beyond with their gorgeous work that truly brings this fic to life. 
> 
> Separate Links to the art seen in the story:  
> https://maximproving.tumblr.com/post/629064946746015744/witcher-big-bang-2020-collab-cursed-to-follow
> 
> https://twitter.com/MaxImproving/status/1304799041025441793?s=20
> 
> note that there is a good bit of the narrators interjecting and arguing about the story they are telling (not with me with each other)

Geralt was trying to meditate, because if he was meditating he likely wasn’t going to throw up. But he also had to stop being queasy enough to sink into a meditative state and that wasn’t working. He was rather pissed off, because he had been on the water before, granted it was on the rivers in small boats, the ride to Skelliege, and never been sick before.

But apparently a large ship way out on the open water no land in sight? No witcher ability could help him. In his cell he had been given a bucket to shit in and he was using it for puking enough he wondered if his stomach would just fall out of his mouth. Even when there was nothing left in his system, his body tried to revolt. Geralt had had his leg almost taken off by a striga once, and this was worse. 

And the worst was Jaskier, a fellow prisoner like him, wasn't so afflicted. He wasn’t even locked up. Geralt could just hear the faint strains of Jaskier’s music from above. Jaskier had been put in the cell across from him, and Geralt had threatened the pirates, about what would happen if they hurt the idiot. They had been vague threats because they had drugged him and his limbs weren’t working well.

When they took Jaskier away from the cell, Geralt had caused a lot of ruckus, because he hated the guy but that didn’t mean he wanted the pirate to pillage him. But then the ship had hit a rough patch and Geralt couldn’t break out of the cell because his organs were trying to break out of his body. He hurried to the bucket again, and there was barely any bile but his body sure tried.

He was going to kill them all for whatever they were doing to the bard that he definitely most certainly did not like. He could hear some cheers and was sure they were whipping the bard or worse.

But then he heard the strains of that stupid song the bard had written a few weeks ago. It was faint but he could hear it. The bard was singing for their captors. Clearly they had forced him under the penalty of death. But that did not sound like strained or forced music. The bard sounded as idiotically happy as ever.

Geralt stared at the floor of his cell. It was vile and who knew what those dried substances on it were. He didn’t really care, he lay down and passed out.

When he woke up the music was a lot closer. He opened one eye, and when the ship shifted, he just groaned. At least his body had given up on throwing up. He was a bit confused though. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh the pirates felt bad they ruined my clothes, so I was allowed to go through everything that they had. Look they pierced my ear too. It looks quite nice doesn’t it?”

“I really fucking hate you,” Geralt said.

“I know, it is the cornerstone of our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship, we have a curse,” Geralt reminded him. “One we were trying to solve, UNTIL YOU GOT US KIDNAPPED BY PIRATES.”

“I don’t know if I would call it kidnapped, I would call it a free trip with a few minor consequences.” Jaskier was strumming his lute. “They are actually really nice pirates. I think about five have proposed a sort of pirate marriage?”

Geralt perked up for a moment. “So, I could find someone willingly taking you on?”

“But then I’d be stuck at sea, and I like it but not as a permanent solution,” Jaskier said. “You could get someone to take me, but I would be miserable.”

“You already are, traveling with me. You’ve said so a lot.” A wave, and Geralt’s stomach was rolling again. 

“I need ground under my feet, not water.”

“So do fucking I,” Geralt said as the dry heaves finished. “Preferably now.”

“They are taking us to an island that has a sorceress that they think might help. Or it is someone they are sacrificing us too. It was sort of hard to tell. Pirate slang is a bit of a tricky syntax. Luckily I am very good at languages. It was one of -”

“The seven liberal arts you studied at Oxenfurt,” Geralt groaned. “Why are you here, Jaskier? Go back to making pirate friends.”

“I was worried about you. Are you sure you should be on that floor? It looks a little…Pirates don't seem to care about hygiene. Like even less than you. They are a wee bit smelly, and not just of brine. There was a faint aroma of unwashed ass.”

“Water is in short supply, I suppose,” Geralt said. “And this floor is not the worst I’ve rested on.”

“What was the worst?”

“Not your concern,” Geralt said. “Leave me be.” He was a bit surprised when that worked and Jaskier left. Weeks of travel and the bard seldom listened to him. It was one of the main reasons that he wanted this curse lifted. Be rid of the bard. For a moment he thought about how easy it would be for one of these pirates to be convinced to take Jaskier, but that sat as ugly in his chest as the bile did in his throat. 

The ship rose and fell and Geralt debated bashing his own head against the bars. Knocking himself out would be close enough to meditation to count. He heard footsteps and hoped it was maybe a pirate to kill him; he would welcome death at this point. But it was Jaskier again. “What?” Geralt groaned.

“They agreed to let you out,” Jaskier said, holding a key.

“No they didn’t.” Geralt was hallucinating that key. “Pirates just don’t let witchers out of their cells.”

“I pointed out you weren’t exactly dangerous right now, and promised you’d behave. They trust me.”

Geralt sat up a little. “I am still absolutely dangerous right now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, I know that, but they fucking don’t and you need out of down here and some fresh air,” Jaskier snapped. “I am fucking rescuing you and you are going to just deal with it alright?”

Geralt sat up slowly. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just am.”

The snick of the key in the prison door seemed loud, and it creaked as it swung open. Geralt was thoroughly pissed off that he could not stand on his own, and his fucking cursed bard had to help him stand, but they made their way up from the bowels of the ship and soon they were on deck, and the air felt so damn good. Jaskier eased him down onto a crate and Geralt turned his face to the sun. 

Then over the side because a wave had him wanting to vomit again.

_“I did not vomit that much, will you fucking tell the story right?”_

_“Excuse me, you were sicker than I knew a person could be!”_

_“I’m not a person.”_

_“Oh will you -” The was a huff. “You were seasick. Even all powerful witchers are not infallible.”_

_“I had a minor stomach problem.”_

_“Minor? You -”_

_“Besides that is the middle of the fucking story, why are you starting there?”_

_“It sets a mood!”_

_“It makes no sense, stories start at the beginning and end at the end. And also why are you using my point of view. You don’t know what I was thinking or feeling. That is all guess work.”_

_“I am a professionally trained story teller, if I cannot imagine and guess at what you were thinking and feeling, I should be drummed out of my profession!”_

_“You should be drummed out for all the crappy near rhymes you make.”_

_“You! You...You!”_

_“You should tell the story right, or not at all.”_

_“Oh, witchers are storytellers, fine you tell our story then.”_

_“I will.”_

_“This should be good. Really, I’m all ears, tell us the story, oh mighty witcher. Tell us a tale Geralt of Rivia, that keeps us warm on a cold winter night, reminds us why life is worth living, what true love and happily ever after mean. Go on share with us all.”_

_“I entered a Gwent game, because it was the only chance at not starving while I traveled the path…”_

_“Gee, I’m riveted.”_

_“At least I’m starting at the fucking beginning. Now there was a Gwent championship…”_


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt was a decent Gwent player. Lambert was a lot better, Eskel was a bit more, Vesemir swore he didn’t play. But Geralt shouldn’t have still been in this competition. There were other players that were better with the cards. But as good as their hands were, Geralt could smell the lies on them and played accordingly.

Yes, it was cheating, but it wasn’t his fault they were willing to play against a witcher, didn’t know the lore. One had been using magic, one poisoned another competitor, he was just using what he had, just the same as everyone else. He didn’t particularly even want to be in this Gwent competition, but he ended up in an area that had few monsters and even less like for witchers. He was near broke, and restless. So he decided to do something stupid, which was spend the last of his coin entering the competition. He had actually had to sell a few of his daggers to join, but the hosts were providing a room, bath, and food, so the trade off was better than other circumstances. And last night when it had been down to just four people, they had sent a woman along to entertain him.

She hadn’t smelled too scared of him, more repulsed than anything, but he had fucked worse smelling people, and when she tried to poison him, he didn’t even get mad. It meant someone thought he had a chance at winning. It was a positive sign really.

But now it was down to Geralt, and a merchant from Beauclair. And the man did not have a scent when he played, which meant Geralt was likely fucked. He smiled at Geralt and Geralt nodded back, “Are you just that good, or is it magic?” Geralt asked.

“You were so worried about the poison she put in your drink, you missed the poison in her cunt,” the merchant replied. “Deadens your senses, just enough.”

“Interesting trick,” was Geralt’s response. “Well then, let’s play.” There was no money for coming in second. He could tell right away that the other man had more strategy and plans; he was trying to think two moves ahead, and anticipate Geralt. Which left Geralt with one recourse. Play like Lambert.

Which meant playing like a mad man with no strategy whatsoever. Because that was a strategy in and of itself. He was on the brink of losing everything twice but clawed his way back. In theory Gwent was best out of three, but in this particular competition you went until your partner was destroyed. They were betting fiercely and there many side bets going on, it had been hours. There had been two small breaks to piss and when he was offered ale and food, Geralt declined. If he was poisoned again he’d never be able to go home from the humiliation of it. 

It may have been night, or the next day, it was hard to tell, but the poison was wearing off. The only problem was the only scent he was pulling in was everyone’s sweat and exhaustion. Geralt looked at his cards. He really had two paths, the safe and the incredibly stupid one in a million chance one. 

When in his fucking miserable life had he ever gone the safe path?

Geralt looked at his hand. “All in,” he said, and let the barest hint of a frown pass his brow. The merchant smirked. “Hmmm, you don’t have anything left, you are trying to scare me.”

“If I wanted to scare you, I’d have my hand on your throat and squeezing the life out of you. I’m bored and it is time to be hunting again. I’m all in, and I do believe you cannot actually match the bet.” Geralt hoped. He had tried to count the stack of money at the Merchant’s side, but he had it blocked just a bit. But the way the man paused he guessed he was right. “So, I win.”

“No,” the merchant snapped. “I’m not losing to a mutant.” He took off a ring. “There, that equals your pot.”

“That stone is fake,” Geralt replied. There was something in the man’s eye. Geralt readied himself for a knife in his back. “Put up something interesting, or lose completely. Imagine going home, and telling them you lost everything to a mutant.”

“The ring, this bracelet, and a secret object. One that is so unique you cannot actually put a price on it. But I promise it will be of…interest to you, and it is worth its weight.”

Geralt shrugged. It was probably gems or rubbish, but he was weary and just wanted this done one way or another. The room was growing too overwhelming. “Fine.”

“Do you freely and wholly accept my offer?” the man was leaning forward. “Swear, it witcher.”

“I so swear that I accept your offer,” Geralt said. Fucking merchants. The person running the game even nodded and the crowd went silent. Geralt looked at his cards, and made the stupid play.

“You witchers really are just blunt instruments aren’t you?” the merchant laughed. He played a card and he was one point short of winning. “No card can save you now, witcher. I win.”

“I don’t need to be saved, I just need to destroy you,” Geralt said and played his last card. It killed his others on the table, but caused just enough damage to the other man’s that Geralt won by two points. “Well, looks like being a blunt instrument won me this tournament.” There were no cheers or applause, because no one particularly wanted Geralt to win. But the man who had run the event had a bag and Geralt took it, filled it with the money on the table, the ring and bracelet. “Secret object?” the man was glaring at him. “I thought so.” There had been a 50/50 chance that had been bullshit. He took the bag and walked through the crowd. He kept walking through town until he reached Roach, then they were to the woods and he gathered his weapons where he buried them. He could hear a man as he strapped them on. Just one though. He honestly had expected more to come after the money. He finished adjusting them but wasn’t particularly worried because anyone making that much fucking noise either was a very shitty thug, or thought they were strong enough to not worry about a sneak attack. 

No man was ever strong enough. “I’ll give you a handful from the purse if you just walk away, because I am really not in the mood for this,” Geralt said. He turned and was confused. “You aren’t a thug.”

“Bard, actually.”

“You kill with song, enchanted words?” Geralt would throw a knife at his voice box, that should attend to that.

“Well, I like to think the emotion I sing with can definitely kill.” The bard laughed a bit. “You left without me?”

“I left,” Geralt agreed. He was confused. “I don’t remember hearing a bard perform.”

“You went to your room, apparently merriment is not a thing witchers do,” the bard smiled a bit. It was not a smile that Geralt trusted, because somehow it was real and fake at the same time. “Bit rude to leave without me, but fine. Not everyone makes a good first impression. I do of course, usually. Seems we are in a bit of an odd circumstance. So, hello, I am Jaskier, the world famous bard, and your humble servant.” 

The bard gave a deep bow. Geralt was listening to the woods. Smelling the air. If he was a distraction it was a not bad one, he couldn’t hear anything, anyone else. He grunted and went to Roach. He mounted up. It was dark but he could see fine, and he knew this road was smooth. He wouldn’t mind a little more space between himself and everyone from the competition. 

“Where are we headed?”

“We?” Geralt looked at him. “There is no we.”

“Actually there is, dear witcher,” the bard was still smiling. No one smiled at him, it was weird. And he still couldn’t tell if it was real or fake, and that was weirder yet. “You won me.”

“I’d remember winning a fool,” Geralt said.

“Classically trained at the continent’s finest university bard, actually,” he said. “And I believe you won a secret object. That means you won me.”

“What?” Geralt looked at him properly. He had a bit of an ageless face, he could have been anywhere 20-40, shadowed eyes, desperation in them, but no fear. It was almost interesting. “You can’t win people.”

“But you did. Unique object, freely accepted? Remember that exchange?”

“I thought he meant a gem.”

“Well I am a gem among men?” the bard laughed again, and Geralt could hear something in it that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It went perfectly with that odd smile. “But I am yours now, so budge up so I can ride with you.”

“You were a slave?”

“No. Yes. No. It is complicated.”

“It really isn’t. I, as the person you are bound to, hereby declare you a free bard, and you may do as you wish. Far away from me. Goodbye.” Geralt made sure Roach was a couple paces away from the bard before he nudged her. They weren’t going fast but fast enough a man on foot couldn’t easily keep up. An hour later he set up a fireless camp. He took care of Roach and settled in to meditate. He couldn’t even remember the bard’s name.

But he did the face, not that it was hard since it had only been a few hours. He blinked awake when he could smell the human. The bard was sitting a few feet away from him. “I believe I mentioned it is complicated?”

“Tell me that you are an expert tracker,” Geralt wasn’t pleading, but it was pretty damn close. “And the fastest man on the continent.”

“I am an expert tracker and the fastest man on the continent,” he agreed and Geralt didn’t even need to smell the lie on him to know it was there. “I am actually quite a good liar you know, just not to the person I am bound to. Part of the thing.”

Geralt closed his eyes. Things were never good. Parts of things were even worse. Things created situations where he ended up with a daughter who was currently studying with his ex, the most terrifying woman on the continent. Things were the worst shit ever. “What sort of thing?”

“See you are stuck with me,” he said. “Jaskier by the way, because I am sure you forgot. Hello.”

Geralt looked at him. Finally he paid attention to his medallion, felt the ribbons of magic on the bard. “Cursed?”

“I am, and now you are cursed with me. But don’t worry, I am delightful company.”

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned.

“Not on the first day!” Jaskier huffed. He was smiling but it faded. “Too soon for that sort of joke. Got it. Don’t worry, I’ll get a handle on your sense of humour soon enough. I’ll be a delightful companion as I said, you can be sure of that, or my name isn’t Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, Dandelion of the hills of -”

“Shut the fuck up,” Geralt said. He looked at the bard. Fuck, was all he could think.

This was absolutely going to be a thing.

Things were never in his favour.

Things always fucked his shit up.

The bard kept his mouth shut, but started to play a lute.

And now things came with music. Geralt mounted Roach and set off at a walk and the bard followed along.

Things. Fucking things.

_“So eloquent there. Things fucking things. Really painting a word portrait for us all.”_

_“It is what I was thinking.”_

_“That is a lie, you were clearly overcome by my beauty, my poise, my ineffable qualities.”_

_“I was not.”_

_“Besides that isn’t even the beginning of the story, and you said very pointedly stories should begin at the beginning.”_

_“Fine. You want the beginning? My mother was a bitch who left me in the fucking woods to be collected by the witchers. I was of no consequence to the world until I was of too much consequence -”_

_“That is the wrong beginning to the story.”_

_“You said the beginning, that is the fucking beginning.”_

_“No, the curse is the fucking beginning.”_

_“You don’t even fully remember how it happened! Even now!”_

_“It is still the beginning. You want the story told correctly, then we’ll begin at the beginning.”_

_“You are just going to spew bullshit.”_

_“Yes, of course I am but it will be the best bullshit ever.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Once the world didn’t have magic.

And then one day it did.

And the world didn’t much care for it, except when it did.

Once the world didn’t have Julian Alfred Pankratz.

And then one day it did.

And he wasn’t cared much for either, except when he was.

Magic doesn’t feel anything, it just was, so it couldn’t care about when it was wanted or not wanted - it just was.

Little Julian felt everything.

That made people care even less for him. That was fine, because he discovered a magic all on his own - music.

And that was a magic that became very cared about for always. He disappeared for hours into the fields singing and playing his lute and being forgotten by everyone. He was fine with that - except he wasn’t.

Then he was found by someone who very much cared about his music. And it was good. Maybe. It was all a little vague. He played for them, and they wanted to keep him, but he didn’t want to be kept, he had never been kept or wanted before and he couldn’t understand what that was now, and he refused. 

He ran.

He ran until he stopped running. He didn’t stop himself. He knew that. Maybe.

He was asleep.

And when he woke up, he was kept.

By someone he didn’t know. And he couldn’t leave, and more he couldn’t remember why.

He still wasn’t cared for by the world, but now it was keeping him, and it was all so much worse.

_“Well, shit.”_

_“What?”_

_“That’s not...that hurts.”_

_“Good stories always do.”_

_“Is it real?”_

_“Real enough.”_

_“Now I feel like crap about how I treated you at the start.”_

_“You were better than many.”_

_“That is not saying much.”_

_“More than you think. Now shall you continue the story or shall I?”_

_“I will.”_

_“Very well, then. Remember people like emotions in stories Geralt not just I walked, ate a rabbit, killed a monster, took a shit, went to sleep.”_

_“What sleep did I get with you always yapping?”_

_“So funny.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt had left the bard behind several times, pushing Roach more than he liked, but still he had to try. Only he would go to hunt for food, or meditate and then the bard was there. He waited once until the bard was asleep, nudged into a perfect slumber with Axii and he left, no trail at all to follow. But when he returned to his camp from taking a piss - there was the bard sitting in front of the fire.

“Did you know the definition of insanity is performing the same action over and over and expecting different results?” the bard said as he warmed his hands by the fire.

“Mages test new potions several times to make sure what is happening is true,” Geralt countered.

“Oooh, are you magic magic? Not been bound to a sorcerer yet, could be fun. I mean I know you’ve done something to me, felt it, but still real magic - do you do that?”

“No,” Geralt replied. He looked at the bard. Geralt couldn’t quite understand the curse on him. He tried again. “I free you. I release you. I unbind you.” Nothing felt different. “I bid you to -” 

“It won’t work,” the bard said. “And it is Jaskier. Really it’s been a week now, I don’t think it is that hard to remember. Two syllables, you don’t even have to remember my real name.”

“Why won’t it work, if you are bound to be cursed to me, my saying you are unbound should work.”

“If the curse was about your suffering, yes, but it is about mine.”

Geralt looked at him. “I am suffering plenty by your presence.”

“Yes, but that is more your choice to suffer. You look like you love suffering. All that brooding must bring you so many women who want to heal your heart.” The bard sort of made one of the grand gestures that he couldn’t really seem to stop. Rather like his mouth. “Men too, I would imagine. Wanting to see what is under that frown, if they can make you smile.”

“They have a brooding discount at brothels, I take advantage of it well,” Geralt replied.

“Really? I’ll have to try that,” the bard said.

“It was a joke. I tend to have to pay double, because witcher and why are we talking about this?” Geralt scrubbed a hand over his face. “Bard, what the fuck did you do?”

“You have already forgotten my name haven’t you?”

Geralt shrugged. “I’ll be rid of you soon, so it is not relevant information to me.” He tilted his head. “One last time.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you ride away,” the bard sighed. “I don’t think you understand what happens.”

“No I don’t, and I don’t especially care,” Geralt stood up and grabbed the silver chain he kept in his pack. “This should set it to rights.” He moved forward, and the bard finally looked scared. “I set you free,” he said for the dozenth time, and he tied the bard to a tree. He packed up Roach and rode off. It was a silver chain so it should hold him there. 

Geralt knew he should be concerned about the bard dying of dehydration, or an animal enjoying the bound prey, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t wanted the bard, and it was really difficult to care about humans after everything he had seen. And a human who got a curse like this on themselves, clearly had been up to no good at some point. He knew Ciri would be disappointed in him. But he was already such a disappointment to her, a bit more wouldn’t matter.

He kept moving for a couple days until Roach just refused to go any farther. They made camp and Geralt settled into a deep meditation, weary from the travel and the bard. When several hours later he began to focus on the world again he sighed. He opened his eyes. “Well, fuck,” he groaned.

The bard waved a bit at him. “I pissed myself so thanks for that,” he said.

Geralt looked at him. “So the whole tree came with you, that is interesting.”

“Well you did lash me to it with a silver chain. Do you know what happens when you leave me behind?” the bard snarled. “It is unpleasant, because it feels like someone is flaying my skin from my muscles and bones, I am being torn apart to my very being until I fucking disappear and am rebuilt wherever you are. If you watch it, it looks like it takes barely a moment, but it is hours of agony as I’m torn through the fucking world to be beside you again. So either just fucking kill me or cut this shit out.”

“I could kill you,” Geralt agreed. “Because a curse like this, you did something very regrettable.”

“I fucked the wrong fae, I hardly think that is that egregious.” Geralt could smell the lie in those words.

“No, you would have done more than just hide the sausage to get a curse like this put on you.” Geralt was looking at him. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know!” Jaskier shouted back. “I had a great week in this fairy court everything was lovely, she, he, they, whoever they were it sort of changed a lot, said something that I keep trying to remember but I cannot, and then I was back in the world and a merchant walked by and all of a sudden I couldn’t leave them. 22 years I have been stuck with people, and nothing they have done, I have done has changed that.”

“Hmm,” Geralt was looking at him. “How old are you?”

“40.”

“Don’t look it.”

“Yes well when the fae curse you, apparently they really fucking curse you.” Jaskier leaned against the tree. “If I could end this, I would.” He closed his eyes and looked utterly defeated. 

“The curse, or your life?”

“Right now? Fuck if I know Geralt of Rivia. You’re the butcher. Just butcher, if you are going to do that.”

Geralt sighed. He went over and took the silver chain back. It seemed like the tree just sort of disappeared. “River that way if you want to get clean.”

“Thank you.”

Geralt watched the bard walk away and went to his pack. He had a spare pair of trousers and a shirt for the bard. They’d be big, but better than what he had on, especially if they had been spoiled. He had thought the bard had a pack but it must have been left behind one of the times. The man had nothing now, because of Geralt and that did not sit quite right. He sat in the early morning light and waited for the bard to return. When he saw him, awkwardly carrying wet clothes in front of himself, Geralt tossed him the spares.

“Thank you,” the bard said.

“Hmm,” Geralt averted his gaze. “I know some powerful sorceresses. They might be able to provide some answers.”

“I doubt it, second, no third person I was attached to - this gorgeous Countess - spent a lot of money researching it. Good shot until I know exactly what I did wrong, nothing can break this.”

“Were they respectable mages?”

“Of course, the Countess would hardly associate with magic of ill repute. Why?”

Geralt snorted a bit. “Because I know one of very ill repute. Who might be able to find answers. And she is clear at the other end of the continent.” He sighed. “Fuck.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No,” Geralt replied after thinking it through. “My daughter, if she found out, would be upset.”

“You have a daughter, but you are the worst? And witchers don’t have children.”

Geralt looked at him. “You said it is untold agony when I abandon you, and you are forced to catch up?”

“I did.”

“Forget I have a child, or I’ll make you feel that every day.”

“Forgotten, just as swiftly as you forget my name, which once again is Jaskier.” He was looking at him. “So what now, Geralt of Rivia?”

“Others have gotten rid of you, clearly. How do I do that?”

“You know the others at least pretended to want to help me with the curse at first. Made them feel better I think, when they started exploiting my talents.”

Geralt snorted, “I have no need of your talents.”

“Charming, subtle too. Because you didn’t actually use the word fuck there. And my talents as a bard, you ass. I am a brilliant singer and composer, made a fortune for people.”

Geralt looked at him. “I kill monsters, how the fuck is a bard useful to me? Better to pawn you off on someone.”

“No,” Jaskier said.

“What?”

“I am not letting you. Because as you said, you are a witcher, and you are my best chance at ending this misery. I am tired of this, Geralt, and I want free. I’ll earn my way, every coin can be yours. I can survive on very little food, learned that with the person after the countess. But I am sticking with you, and you are going to free me.”

“I am?” Geralt looked at him. 

“With those disreputable mages, other witchers, pirates, a monster, I don’t give a fuck. You are my best shot at freedom, and I am taking it.”

“I freely accepted you, I am sure I can get someone else to do that as well.”

“Not with how very difficult I will be, and trust me I can be very very difficult.” Jaskier was glaring at him and Geralt didn’t exactly feel threatened. 

“Next town, I’ll find someone to take you.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Jaskier muttered. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. The bard was dramatic and annoying, and within a couple of days would be someone else’s problem.

_“Thank you so much, for adding the detail into the story of me pissing myself, Geralt.”_

_“You told me to add detail! I was making it….what is it you always say? I was breathing life into the fucking tale, making it like people could see and smell it.”_

_“Oh I can go into smells because we went five days at one point without seeing a hit of water that wasn’t swamp. Do you know how well I can paint a word picture, Geralt? No one will ever want to eat again after I finish talking.”_

_“I did what you told me to do!”_

_“Some subtlety, Geralt, is allowed.”_

_“Fine, you tell what those first couple days were like.”_

_“Of course. I was the model of grace, and dignity -”_

_“First person I tried to convince to take you, you pretended you thought you were a bird.”_

_“A graceful bird, Geralt, a dignified bird.”_

_“You flapped your arms like wings and we were run out of town because they wanted to burn you at the stake.”_

_“Grace. And fucking dignity.”_

_“Just tell what is next.”_


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt alternated between staring at the rabbit that was roasting on the spit, and Jaskier. He had to admit, he was almost impressed. He knew stubborn men. He knew assholes. He was brothers with Lambert for fuck’s sake. And Jaskier made that bastard look sweet as cake. He had promised Geralt wouldn’t be able to get rid of him, and had kept good on that promise.

“Here is my question,” Geralt finally said. He hadn’t actually said a word to the bard in five days. Other people, trying to get them to take him, but not the actual bard. “How did you make your mouth foam like that?” That was the one that was throwing him off.

“Oh, if you chew the Caldeonia flower with a bit of ale, it activates the yeast again and creates foam. It is how they make this one particular alcohol in Kwaeden.”

Geralt nodded. He took the rabbit off the spit and cut it up, gave a leg to Jaskier.

“My thanks,” Jaskier said softly. 

Maybe Geralt had been an asshole too, not especially feeding Jaskier the last few days and the man’s eyes were looking a little hollow, but he hadn’t complained. When Geralt hadn’t been trying to get rid of him, the bard had been quiet. He had expected a lot of complaining, but he hadn’t. Geralt thought about explaining this to Ciri when he saw her next. Thought of the horror and disappointment that would be on her face.

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, but stopped at the look on the man’s face. “Shit, did I get it wrong?”

“No,” Jaskier cleared his throat. “No, I just...you aren’t the first I was bound to, who didn’t bother with my name. It is nice to hear it. That’s all.” He nibbled a bit at the rabbit leg. “This is quite tasty.”

Geralt had been roasting rabbit over a fire for almost a hundred years, he knew how to cook it, for fucks sake. He almost yelled that but didn’t. Because the bard was looking almost fragile. Tired.

Geralt properly thought about how he would feel having spent decades of his life trapped to people he didn’t like, had no control over. “Yen will be able to fix this.” Now why did the man go pale. “What?”

“Yen?” Jaskier was looking at him in awe and terror. “Is that short for Yennefer of Vengerberg? The hero of Sodden Hill?”

Geralt rolled his eyes a bit. “Not _the_ hero of Sodden Hill, there were fourteen of them.” He said this automatically because he liked to annoy Yen, even though yes she was the fucking hero of the hill. “She’s just Yen.” Dear gods, he hoped she hadn’t heard that, even though she was at the other side of the continent.

“Just Yen,” Jaskier looked at him. “Who are you that you can say, just Yen, Geralt of Rivia?”

“A witcher,” Geralt replied.

“You aren’t the first I met, you know. Met someone from the griffin school about a decade ago. Well, not met met, saw. Didn’t dress all in black.”

“Hmm.” Geralt finished eating and walked into the woods to take care of his needs. He came back quietly and was able to observe the bard unnoticed for a few moments. In the firelight he looked closer to the age that he said he was. And he didn’t have that fake smile on. He just looked…

Lost.

Also, oddly empty. He was moving his hands like he should be holding something. The fingers were moving in the air bizarrely. Geralt moved closer to camp and Jaskier’s hands fell. “What were you doing, you don’t have magic?” He was fairly certain of that, and they hadn’t looked like the signs that Geralt did, but you still, it was something.

“Nothing,” Jaskier said and sat on his hands.

Geralt just looked at him. He held his hands up and tried to copy what Jaskier was doing to see if it invoked anyone or anything. 

“No, It’s not a G there, what are you doing it is an E flat,” Jaskier snapped. “Like this.” He moved his hands and started singing. Geralt recognized the song, had heard it in taverns and the like. Jaskier’s hands kept moving as he sang, as if he was honestly holding an instrument.

Geralt wasn’t sure he had seen anything that shouted loss quite like a musician playing when there was no instrument at hand. He was actually a fair singer as far as Geralt could tell. He wondered if he played well. “What is it you play?”

“Lute,” Jaskier said. “I had it with me when we met. Got lost in all the moving through unseen space. It was shit, but it was mine.”

“Hmm.”

“A good man would apologize,” Jaskier suggested.

“Not a man, and not very good.” Geralt just shrugged. 

“Well, the not a man I suppose you can’t help, but the not being good now that is a fucking choice isn’t it?” 

Geralt watched him. “You know most people are scared of me. You don’t seem to be. Why?” It was bothering him, Jaskier’s attitude. 

Jaskier, himself.

“Because you aren’t the worst I’ve seen,” Jaskier said simply. “What you’ve done, or haven’t done? You might be monstrous or whatever you think, but trust me. You aren’t a monster.”

Geralt didn’t feel the way people did. He was taught this. He knew this about himself. It was shouted at him by many people over the decades. But those words felt. 

He just couldn’t name what that feeling was.

So he would ignore it. “How far can you walk before you break?” Geralt wasn’t quite sure what humans could endure on the path. “The sooner we can get to Yen the sooner this can be sorted.”

“Far, I can go pretty fucking far,” Jaskier said.

“We’ll see what that means tomorrow,” Geralt replied. “You should get some rest.”

Jaskier nodded and settled on the ground near the fire. He looked rather uncomfortable. “Have the bed roll,” Geralt found himself offering.

“I am fine.”

“If we want to push hard tomorrow, you need rest,” Geralt nodded. It was in his own self interest to make sure that the bard had a good night’s sleep. “I don’t need sleep for a few days. Meditation is fine.”

“A handy skill.”

“Most people find that odd.”

“I’m cursed to follow people until I fucking die, Geralt. Odd has changed meaning for me over the years.” 

Geralt just grunted at that and gestured. Jaskier slowly moved over like it was a trap. Geralt watched him carefully. “How abused have you been?”

“I’ve survived every bad day I’ve had, witcher. That is all that matters, isn’t it?”

Geralt could understand that sentiment with his whole being. He nodded and settled into meditate. He pulled himself out of it at dawn and began to pack up the camp. He would have thought the noise would wake Jaskier but apparently the bard slept like the dead. Geralt actually had dealt with the dead enough to know they didn’t sleep as well as humans thought. So he supposed Jaskier was sleeping even better than the dead.

He let him sleep though as long as he could, but eventually had to nudge the man awake. “Jaskier, time to move,” Geralt said. He found the words came out softer than they would have a couple days ago. He didn’t kick, even gently but nudged a shoulder with his hand. “I want us to travel hard today.”

“A few moments,” Jaskier said and disappeared into the woods. Geralt packed up the bedroll and pet Roach until he emerged. “Ready.”

They started to walk and Geralt had to admit that he was a bit impressed with how well the bard was holding up. He didn’t set a punishing pace but other than one brief stop to piss, Jaskier hadn’t asked for anything. He would quietly pass Jaskier some jerky or the waterskin, and the man seemed always surprised.

Fuck, if traveling with him was the best Jaskier had in the last twenty years, no wonder he wasn’t letting himself be passed off. He could smell a village not too far away. “Let’s go,” he said without explanation, leading them to the village.

Which turned out to be a generous word. 12 buildings was hardly a village, but still someone would be selling something, or offering trade at least. Or when he was spit on the first time, perhaps not. There was a man with a cart selling some fresh vegetables and Geralt went up to him. “We’ll take some.”

More spit. Great. 

Geralt nodded, and started to move.

“He said we’d like some vegetables for our journey,” Jaskier said. He was glaring at the poor villager. “And we have actual money, which I have a feeling is in short supply here.”

“Don’t sell to mutants.”

It wasn’t uncommon. Geralt moved and was a few lengths away before his brain pointed out that there were no footsteps following him. He turned and Jaskier was still glaring the man down. “The carrots,” Jaskier said. “And the onion.”

“No. It -”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier looked enraged. “Did you just call the witcher, THE MAN WHO GENERALLY SPENDS HIS TIME MAKING SURE MONSTERS DON’T EAT YOUR CHILDREN, it?”

“It is what it is,” the man said. He crossed his arms. “And our village never been beset, so don’t see why we have to cater to one of them.”

Geralt did not know what to do when Jaskier snarled and grabbed the man’s shirt. He hurried back over and carefully eased the bard’s grip. “The carrots were likely fertilized with their own shit. Why they all look so sickly. We don’t want that.”

Jaskier wasn’t moving though and Geralt picked him up and slung him over Roach. He walked them out of town. “Those bastards,” Jaskier said finally when they were well away. “They lost a sale, actual money because they hated you.”

“Not the first time, fuck, not the hundredth.” Geralt wasn’t particularly upset. It was just his life. “Next one will be better or worse. On it goes.”

“Worse?”

“Well they didn’t throw anything at us to get rid of us, that is actually a nice change.” Geralt looked at him. “Why did you -” he couldn’t quite finish the question.

“Because, it was the right thing to do,” Jaskier said.

“Hmm,” Geralt said and they walked until the sky began to darken and they set up camp. They made do with the jerky, and foraged some edible plants.

“Is it really that bad?” Jaskier asked eventually.

Geralt didn’t answer, he had already, what was the point in repetition?

“Maybe…” Jaskier was looking at the fire, very pointedly not looking at Geralt. “Maybe it is destiny. Two people that no one seems to want, stuck together.”

“Fuck destiny,” Geralt growled. “I’m tired of it fucking with my life.”

“Think of it this way, at least destiny has noticed you.”

“It is a curse.” Geralt poked at the tiny fire. “Pray it never comes for you.”

“What did destiny do to you that was so horrific?”

Give him a daughter that wanted nothing to do with him, once she had the chance to study with Yennefer.

“Nothing,” Geralt said. “Nevermind.”

“I’m going to write a song, once I get my hands on a lute again. We’re going to make the world appreciate you.”

“Don’t,” Geralt said.

“You deserve better.”

“You don’t know that,” Geralt said. “I’m the Butcher of Blaviken, I’m a million things they are right to fear.”

“And I wager a million things that they shouldn’t. It will be my thanks, for not getting rid of me. Me changing your world.”

“Don’t,” Geralt snarled and stalked off. He stayed away for a few hours and when he returned Jaskier was asleep on the ground. He should have taken the bed roll. Geralt tossed a blanket over the bard’s shoulders and lay on the bedroll.

The bard was foolish to think that he could change anything about how the world thought of witchers.

And Geralt was a fool for wishing, for just one moment, that the man could actually do it.

_“I wasn’t that nice those days.”_

_“Poetic interpretation.”_

_“I had no secret wishes. And you didn’t get physical with the man, you just sort of flapped your arms and tried to insult him. You called him a toadstool.”_

_“Shut up, I was heroic!”_

_“You looked like a fish out of water. Like you always do when you are tetchy. See look, doing it right now. Gulping like a fish.”_

_“ - “_

_“You make those first days sound more melancholy than they were, we were shouting at each other every other sentence.”_

_“We were sad on our insides Geralt!”_

_“I wasn’t. Don’t feel sadness.”_

_“Oh, fuck off.”_

_“Are you going to make the fish face again?”_

_“-”_

_“While you attempt to figure out whatever insult you want to launch at me, I’m telling the story, so you don’t make everyone yawn or cry from sadness. Because next is funny, because of the harpies.”_

_“The harpies were not funny!”_

_“Yes they were.”_

_“As if you can actually tell a tale with humour, anyways.”_

_“They’ll laugh.”_

_“5 crowns.”_

_“Done!”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Good.”_


	6. Chapter 6

They had been traveling for three days, and luckily had hit a town that was indifferent to witchers, which meant they had stocked up on some food and a second bedroll. Geralt had quietly asked the merchant if there was a lute for sale in the village but there hadn’t been.

Not that he had been planning to buy it for Jaskier, but he had asked.

They had reached a gorge with a path that went down and through, but something felt wrong. “We should go around.”

“Won’t that take longer?” Jaskier was looking at the path. “You can see the whole path down and back up. Looks fine for Roach.”

There was a smell on the wind that he knew not to trust. “Around.”

“How about no?” Jaskier said and started down the path.

“How about yes?” Geralt snapped. “And remember if I start you’ll eventually be forced to catch up anyways.”

They stood there glaring at each other. “I will make your life hell if we take the longer way,” Jaskier swore. “Do you know exactly how long I can talk?”

“I can shut you up,” Geralt challenged. “Gag you.”

“I can make so much noise without ever using my mouth.”

“What does that mean?” Geralt was a bit flummoxed by that.

“Take the long way and find out,” Jaskier said. “Through the gorge, or find out.”

“Fine,” Geralt said. It would save them a few days, and it was a vague smell. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to worry about.

And Jaskier was in fact quite smug as they reached the bottom of the gorge and there were no problems at all. He was rambling about how much easier it was, and how he was right, and Geralt should really listen to him all the time. 

Then they heard the screech of a bird and both looked up. “Bit of a big bird there isn’t it?” Jaskier said.

Geralt looked around and breathed in. The smell was still faint. But they didn’t hunt where they nested. The gorge was a fucking trap. “Move,” he snarled. “Start running.”

“Why it is just a bird,” Jaskier protested. “Oh well two birds. Four birds. 5 very large and loud birds. Seven actually and they seem to be circling right above us and yes, I do believe that running thing you suggested might be a good idea.”

Geralt pulled his silver sword. “Too late, get under that rock formation!”

“Why?”

“Are you fucking serious?” he snarled. He cast Quen in enough time to shield Jaskier from the first harpy dive bomb. He spun and sliced the head off that one. But that would just make the others angry. “Move!”

Soon all the harpies were dive bombing and he was attacking. Ingii was helping, but he was not able to attack as he would have liked, because he had to keep them off of Roach and Jaskier who had frozen on the spot. 

Fuck.

One knocked him over and he rolled to recover. There was a louder screech, deeper. The queen of this nest had come out to play. Geralt was relieved that Roach had finally bolted and he killed the two harpies getting ready to fly after her.

There was then a horrific scream and he watched the queen harpy snatch up Jaskier and carry him off. “Fuck,” Geralt cursed. Two flew with her, and he killed the three that stayed, clearly sacrificing their lives. He began to run following the path of the harpies in the sky. He whistled and Roach came running; Geralt from long experience was able to mount her mid gallop and they chased after the harpies. He watched them head into a cave about halfway up the side of the gorge and there was no path. 

Who needed a path when you could fly.

He sat there and thought about it. If he left, Jaskier would be transported to him, but it tended to take a few hours and the harpies would likely eat him in that time. Geralt sighed. He really fucking hated climbing rocks.

Geralt made his way up, and the odd smell from earlier hit his nose, but stronger now. Usually a harpy nest just smelled like blood and bone. There was a sickly sweetness. A cloying rotten smell to the air. His brain was trying to remember why that smell was important as he finally made the cave entrance, and it only grew stronger.

He kept to the cave walls and heard the chattering and screeching of the harpies and no Jaskier, which was concerning. The smell was vile and he was getting a headache. He would never admit that he was relieved when he heard Jaskier.

“Yes, thank you, this is all very flattering but - and you’ve ripped off my shirt. Lovely. As I said, flattering. But I’m not exactly into interspecies relationships? Yes of course everyone wonders things at times but -”

Geralt put all the pieces together. The harpy queen was in heat and had chosen Jaskier. He moved very slowly closer because this just got a lot more difficult. The other harpies would be very aggressive making sure their queen mated. He had to down a potion to try to focus because the smell was so overwhelming. There was also the mix of rotting flesh from kills, moldy straw and wood in the nest. 

And Jaskier’s terror was cutting through most of that.

He was finally able to see Jaskier who had been stripped down, and the harpy queen was grooming him. Geralt was sure the situation wasn’t funny, because the queen would mate him and then kill him to bury her eggs in his carcass, but on the other hand, the damned bard was getting covered in feathers and stolen jewelry, his hair arranged just so. 

“The necklaces are beautiful, but you really don’t want me for whatever you want me for. I’m from very poor stock, you know. Minor nobility, very inbred a couple hundred years back. I have webbed toes. Bet that would make flying difficult. I write love songs, I bet I could get men to fall in love with your...beauty. You have very nice...feathers? Actually, you really do have nice colouring.”

Geralt could only imagine what his face looked like. If Lambert was there, he’d be pissing himself laughing. The harpy queen pulled a few of her feathers out and put them in Jaskier’s hair. She chirped a bit and started to move Jaskier around more. Jaskier tried to fight it, and her claws flashed in the air and he went very still. 

“You know, I generally am required to serenade people before well intimate moments. Shall I?” 

Geralt watched rather impressed. Jaskier was managing to sing, his voice smooth the fear that was pouring off him not making his voice tremble a bit. And it was distracting the harpies. All of them were responding to the notes. He was able to move closer because they were so distracted.

He saw the moment that Jaskier noticed him, and Geralt gestured for him to keep going. Jaskier blinked very slowly and the song continued. Geralt slid close to one of the harpies and had her throat slit in an instance. All the guard ones screeched and attacked but he managed to kill them. Geralt faced off the queen.

“He is really annoying, your young would never shut up,” Geralt told her. “Hold the nest,” he ordered and was shocked that Jaskier did as he was told. He cast aard which blew the queen away from Jaskier. Jaskier scrambled out of the nest, his pants in tatters around him. Soon he was behind Geralt. Geralt charged forward and it was a hard fight, the queen furious at losing her chosen mate. She got a few good swipes in, but a well thrown rock from Jaskier distracted her just enough that Geralt was able to cut off her head.

He then fell to his knees and retched because the smell was just so much. 

“Geralt?”

“Just check the bags and crates they dragged in here. Might find clothes.” He wiped the blood off his sword and returned it to the scabbard. Geralt didn’t care about dignity with the migraine that was building and he just crawled towards the cave opening. Once outside he let his legs dangle over the ledge. The smell was still there, but there was a breeze and it helped. 

“Excellent news!” Jaskier said cheerfully.

Geralt closed his eyes. “What excellent news?”

“Not only did I find some amazing clothes, I found coin, gems, and in fact a lute.”

“A lute,” Geralt wouldn’t look over. “You found a fucking lute in a harpy cave where you were almost mated by the queen which would have lead to your murder while you were still coming.”

“I don’t know that I would have been able to get it up, I can find beauty in anyone but -”

“She would have spit into your mouth a mix of -”

“I very much can live without whatever knowledge you were about to give me.” 

Geralt heard a thump and there was a bag next to him, whatever Jaskier decided to liberate from the cave, and sure enough there was a lute in his hands. “Hmm.”

Jaskier played a note and they both winced. Jaskier’s fingers moved the nobs and then it sounded better. He hummed and then began to play, the shapes his fingers had made finally in their proper place.

Jaskier looked complete.

Though also an idiot as he still had the harpy feathers in his hair. Geralt pulled them out. Each feather was worth five crowns after all. They sat there on that ledge, Roach below them. Geralt’s headache slowly eased.

“See I was right. Worth it to go through the gorge to get this lute.”

“You are fucking insane.”

“How are we going to get down?”

“Could throw you down,” Geralt suggested. “If you bang your head enough you might gain some sense.” He tossed the bag down the side watching how it slid on the rock. He then followed its path. He looked up at Jaskier. “Figure it out yourself,” he said and was curious to see what would happen.

_“That wasn’t ha ha funny. You should have lingered on the description of me in the nest.”_

_“It is ha ha funny that you were idiotic enough to think it all worth it because you got a lute out of it.”_

_“Excuse me for trying to see the best in an awkward situation.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“Besides considering what happened in that brothel -”_

_“No.”_

_“Oooh were you planning to skip over that part of the story?”_

_“It is irrelevant.”_

_“It is a key step onto the path of how we ended up kidnapped by pirates - it is very relevant.”_

_“We are skipping that part.”_

_“Not now we aren’t, that I know it will annoy you.”_

_“Jaskier I swear to fucking -”_

_“Now see here is the thing about Geralt and brothels. He likes them!”_


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt wasn’t sure that he had ever been happier. He was smiling and even humming to himself, and yes maybe it was one of the bard’s annoying songs, but that was fine, because he was humming it, and not the bard.

Or if he was, Geralt didn’t know because the bard was two whole, amazing, wonderful rooms away. If Geralt fell asleep, the bard would be transported to his side but they had spent the last month of their traveling figuring out how far away Jaskier could get before it started to hurt him, pull him back to Geralt.

Two rooms away in this brothel seemed well within what the curse would allow. He couldn’t see or hear Jaskier and it was heaven. Also, he hadn’t paid for this, which made it even better. Jaskier felt bad that his proximity meant that Geralt couldn’t take contracts. Yes, he still had some of the winnings, but he had sent a great deal of it back to Yen for whatever Ciri needed. He had kept just enough, and it didn’t run to this level of care at a brothel.

But Jaskier had been playing in every tavern and inn they found as they walked. That lute was serving him well and he was bringing in a great deal of money, so he had suggested an indulgent night at the brothel. He wanted to make it up to Geralt the burden of dealing with Jaskier.

And he was a huge fucking burden.

“What are you humming?” The whore poured warm water over his head, and began to wash his hair.

“Nothing, just a tavern song,” Geralt replied. He made a contented noise as she worked, and he was scrubbed clean from head to toe. “My thanks,” he said politely. He looked over and appreciated the sight. Her robe was sheer, clung to her skin where it had gotten wet in spots. Jaskier had actually picked her out for Geralt, he had decent taste. He could see that she had interesting piercings. He stood up and let her dry him off. 

Geralt lay on the bed, and she poured oil on his back, and the massage was good. She was talking but he tuned most of it out, because it was the standard talk that happened in these encounters. She had a nice voice though, and the rise and fall was soothing.

Eventually her touches changed from soothing to arousing and Geralt rolled over. She was naked, the sheer robe gone and things were progressing. Geralt was having a good time, lost in the pleasure when he heard Jaskier scream.

He really wanted that to be a pleasure scream, but when it happened again, he cursed. He lifted the whore off of his cock, and stood. He grabbed his sword, naked half hard cock still wet, and -

“ _Jaskier, what the fuck?”_

_“I am telling an authentic story, and life is messy Geralt, we shouldn’t shy away from detail.”_

_“We sure as as fuck are not saying Geralt’s wet dick in front of Ciri!”_

_“I didn’t, I said half hard cock still wet.”_

_“I will murder you.”_

_“If you were going to do that you would have done it by now. Ciri, while it is perhaps a little much, for the sake of story telling about everything that happened, can you endure a bit of graphic detail?”_

_“For fuck’s sake I was already done and wearing pants when you screamed like the bitch you are.”_

_“Yes, I am aware, but I thought I’d play you up in the story a bit, so that you weren’t done with the best whore in the brothel so very quickly!”_

_“You were fucking a vampire!”_

_“She only tried to eat me a little!”_

_“It didn’t happen that way, tell it right.”_

_“Fine, so to make Geralt less of a grumpy bastard, brothel, baths, and bountiful bosoms and -”_

Geralt had finished and was getting dressed when he heard Jaskier’s scream. He looked at the whore, who hadn’t noticed the screams, but in a deliberate way. In a she knew what that scream meant and was hoping that maybe he didn’t go. “What is in with him?”

“A whore,” she replied.

He just nodded because she was telling the truth. He ran and two doors away right now felt too far away. Geralt blew the door open and Jaskier was in a corner, screaming. The vampire reached for him, but Jaskier rolled away. 

Geralt raised his silver sword and sliced her head off. The body fell and he looked at Jaskier. “I suppose I should thank you for not buying me the vampire.” He looked down, “How are you still hard with that happening?”

“I thought it was a role play thing at first!” Jaskier shouted.

“Well I suppose you could fuck the headless vampire corpse…” He waited and it was barely two breaths and the bard’s erection was gone. “There you go, all taken care of. Shall we leave?”

“I just wanted you to have one good night,” Jaskier was staring at the body. He sounded almost forlorn.

“I had a good bath, massage, and a decent fuck, and one less monster in the world. Pretty good night all in all.”

“We paid through the morning, we could insist on a room?”

Geralt stepped over the corpse, and held out a hand to Jaskier. “Come on, camping just the two of us is better anyways.”

“It is?”

“No, I just thought you needed cheering up.” Geralt snorted a bit. “Leaving in ten.” He went back to the room, gathered his things. The whore was sitting on the bed; he could smell the terror on her. “How many has she killed?”

“Many,” she whispered. She was shivering. “She moved in, and told us let her feed and we live.”

Geralt picked up her robe, and draped it over her shoulders. “And you think what I’m going to stop you from living?”

“You’re the Butcher aren’t you?”

“I am,” Geralt agreed. He gathered his things. “Take care.” He left and Jaskier was in the hall. “The bed wasn’t even that comfortable.”

He didn’t care for the fact that he felt better when Jaskier gave a faint smile. They left the brothel and it was dark out, too dark for Jaskier to travel, with clouds blocking the moon. Geralt led them to the stables and there was an empty stall. He found a few horse blankets and lay them on the ground. 

He settled, his head against his pack. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course, you seldom do,” Jaskier was lying on his side, watching him. 

“Do you end up in any bed where the person doesn’t try to kill you?” He was joking, teasing. But then there was a heavy silence. It just got heavier, leaden. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt, what do you think?”

Geralt was quiet. “I don’t like you, but you don’t deserve what this curse has done to you.”

“That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a very long time,” Jaskier sounded choked, as if the words made him want to cry.

“Can you name everyone you’ve been bound to?”

“I suppose?” Jaskier smelled confused. “Why?”

“There is an old saying at Kaer Morhen. Name your fears, speak your bad memories, let the wind carry them away, so that you may walk the path only burdened by your physical load, not an emotional one.”

“That sounds nice,” Jaskier agreed, “But I am cursed, remember? I can’t let it blow away on the wind.”

Geralt wished the idiot bard could remember the exact nature of the curse because it didn’t feel quite fair that he was stuck even after he had grown, learned from his mistake. But the fae were seldom fair. He had made up that bullshit, the wolf school was never so philosophical, but there were monsters out there who it sounded like needed a witcher blade. 

“What is your fear?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you scared of, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt rolled over and feigned sleep. He was relieved when Jaskier didn’t push, and he eventually actually fell asleep.

_“You never did answer, you know, what you are afraid of.”_

_“Because it is none of your fucking business.”_

_“I’m sure everyone here is curious what the famed Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher, the White Wolf is scared of. Is it…spiders?”_

_“No.”_

_“Butterflies?”_

_“Who the fuck is scared of butterflies?”_

_“Maybe you.”_

_“No, asshole, I am not scared of butterflies.”_

_“Whatever it is that lurks in the depths of the ocean unknown by man, things that scare the monsters that walk the earth.”_

_“Well, I fucking am now when you phrase it like that.”_

_“How about….you are scared of not being enough for Ciri, and worried that if you tried and failed you would break your own heart for doing so?”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_“So I was right, interesting.”_

_“You are scared of actually being wanted. Truly wanted by someone. No, being fucking needed.”_

_“I bought us whores at another brothel too, how about we talk about that?”_

_“No, how about we skip the next month that was wandering, and your insistence on brothels and focus on how you got us kidnapped by pirates?”_

_“I wouldn’t say it was wholly my fault.”_

_“Really.”_

_“He seemed like a very reputable gentleman. He had a nice hat!”_

_“Oh well then, that makes being drugged and imprisoned on a ship peachy, that he at least had a nice hat.”_

_“I think you are -”_

_“We were on the docks of Novigrad, looking to sail to Skellige, because I had decided a fae curse, that druids were perhaps the better option to help us instead of you, Yen. And then things fell apart.”_


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt was pissed, but not surprised. Boats to Skellige were difficult to get, the voyage treacherous, with pirates, monsters, the people of Skellige themselves. It was a fucking mess, but usually there was one crew that knew the safe passages enough, that a mix of axii and coin could get him there.

At least a few years ago, it could have. But times were changing everything so quickly. Nilfgaard’s war was fucking up all the old rules. A new world was on the horizon and it looked fairly shitty. Geralt heard a rumour about a captain that was headed to Skellige and found Jaskier bartering with a merchant just a little bit down.

“I have a lead,” Geralt told him.

“I have fish!” Jaskier held up a package of dried and salted fish that actually smelled decent. “And the word on which brothel in town is the best.”

Geralt flinched. “Can we not?”

“Huh?”

“You need to stop buying me whores,” Geralt was gritting his teeth as he said it, because it was not a sentence he had expected to ever find himself saying. 

“But you like them, and I am working, you not so much. Because of me, and -”

“Jaskier, I’m not going to beat you because I cannot work as much right now. I’m not going to walk away so that you have the pain of being brought back to me. You are annoying, and a pain in the ass, and I really fucking hate the situation we are stuck in, but you have to stop trying to make it up to me by showering me in wet cunts.”

Several people turned and stared because perhaps his voice had risen over the course of that speech. And now Jaskier was staring at him all weird. It was annoying. Geralt sort of grunted and went into the tavern with the captain it was suggested would take them to Skellige.

And he would, for an astonishing amount of coin. And he was immune to axii which was a pain. “Fine,” Geralt grunted. “When do you sail?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned but nodded. He went over to Jaskier. “What are the chances that you won’t be pulled to me, so long as we are in the same city?”

“I don’t know?” Jaskier was a bit distracted, as he was talking to a man in an idiotic hat. “As long as you don’t fall asleep, have the intent of returning, we should be good?”

“Fine, do not fucking leave this bar. Novigrad always has shit in its sewers -”

“Yes, that is the point of sewers,” Jaskier was in a snarky mood, clearly. Which is how he was, but still, Geralt was especially not in the mood, since he would have to go into those sewers to earn enough coin for their passage.

“Monsters in the sewers, I’ll get paid, we’ll sail to Skellige.”

“Good good, so where did you say you were from?” Jaskier was back talking to the man in the hat, and ignoring Geralt.

Geralt grunted and went to look for a notice board. Sure enough there were a few local jobs and he collected them. The Novigrad sewers were just as awful as he remembered, but also as profitable because thieves used them, and he figured if it was stolen goods, he could steal it right back. He dealt with the drowners, sealed off a few holes in walls, found a bunch of things he could sell and headed back up.

It was hours of work, and he was covered in guts and shit, and who knew what else, but the shops he went to were used to that, and he was able to barter a good bit of coin. He was also paid out for the city contracts, but it was still not quite enough. Fuck, he should have kept more of the winnings, but he wanted Ciri to have whatever she needed. Because it certainly wasn’t him. Geralt figured though, that he could find a few games of Gwent and make up the difference.

_“Wait, I need you.”_

_“He’s just making things up, for story purposes.”_

_“Nu-uh, you want her to need you so fucking desperately you goddamn talk about her in your sleep.”_

_“You do, Geralt?”_

_“I -”_

_“He does, prays too.”_

_“Witchers don’t pray, they don’t worship any god.”_

_“Certain weird spots in woods, that looked like maybe they were shrines once. He would pause, say words I wouldn’t understand, and your name would be in the middle.”_

_“Jaskier, shut up.”_

_“You prayed for me? For what?”_

_“What did these spots look like?”_

_“I am so glad you ask, Yennefer. They were -”_

_“It was nothing, just a few spots. Forgotten gods, they wouldn’t be busy being forgotten, so I asked them to protect and guide Ciri. No big deal.”_

_“It might be a big deal to me.”_

_“I just want you safe.”_

_“They are hugging. Do you see that? Lookit the hugging, it is so cute! Oh she looks so tiny in his arms.”_

_“Continue the story, bard.”_

Geralt went to a few places and picked up a few games of Gwent and he was still short the sailing price, but close enough that whatever Jaskier had should balance it out. He headed back to the dockside tavern where he had left Jaskier...fuck almost nine hours ago. Shit, he hoped that hadn’t been long enough to pull Jaskier through space. He ran, knocking into people who cursed him out. When he reached the bar, he was relieved to see Jaskier standing on a table, singing a perfectly filthy song, the man in the hat watching him raptly. 

Geralt would have gone to the captain, but the man in the hat signaled him to come over. He went and sat across from the man. “The bard is interesting.” Geralt just grunted at that, because interesting was not enough of a word to explain and define Jaskier. “He says that you are a fair hand at Gwent, care to play?”

Geralt nodded, because maybe he wouldn’t even have to ask Jaskier to finish out their fare cost. They didn’t talk as they played, both focused on their cards. He was a good player and Geralt won the first round but lost the second.

“How much for the bard?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I want him, how much for your toy?”

“He isn’t for sale,” Geralt glared at him. “For a night, for any night, all of them. He isn’t for sale.”

“Then I’ll just take him.”

“If you did, I’d kill you, and it wouldn’t work anyways, he’ll always return to me.” Geralt blinked. Why did he tell the man that? 

“Because of a deep emotional bond?” The man lay down a card, and the figures on it seemed to move.

“Curse, we are bound together. He always snaps back to me.” The figures on the cards were actually fighting. And had terrible sword form. Geralt giggled a bit. Fuck. He reached for one of the swords at his back.

He could hear Jaskier hit a wrong chord. “Geralt?” he called out.

“Interesting, then I guess I’ll have to take you too,” the man in the hat said. A powder was blown into his face and Geralt blinked. Sneezed. He stood, tried to fight it, but fell down. 

“Geralt! Fuck, no you bastard, I’ll kill you!” Jaskier roared, and Geralt was impressed with how dangerous he sounded.

Also that he had turned glittery blue, that was a neat trick.

And then Geralt saw nothing.

_“You were so easily tricked?”_

_“Shut up, Yen.”_

_“You’d think you’d have learned your lesson after I drugged you.”_

_“You did what? She drugged you, and you trusted your daughter to her? I am aware you are emotionally stunted, but what the fuck is that shit?”_

_“Yen was a fucked up bitch, but she grew, matured.”_

_“I will light you on fire.”_

_“You drugged, Geralt? Why?”_

_“Ahh…”_

_“Yes, why?”_

_“We’ll explain when you are older. Yen was hurting and in doing so hurt people. She has since let go of that pain and become a better person.”_

_“Thank you, Geralt.”_

_“What happened next?”_

_“Next we are at where the tale began, me puking up my guts on a boat that sailed farther than I had ever been before, past where maps end, into places no men should ever have gone.”_

_“It smelled different that far out. Less fish more...Geralt what was the scent?”_

_“It was the Chaos, untethered.”_

_“I was going to say surprisingly lemony.”_

_“The Chaos does not smell lemony.”_

_“Stop being so dramatic, “the Chaos’ please it was just water water water everywhere, that smelled not like water at all. And your father was sick as fuck. And I tended to him beautifully.”_

_“You tended to me. There was nothing beautiful about that ship.”_

_“It wasn’t so bad.”_

_“No, it was worse.”_


	9. Chapter 9

Geralt was really annoyed at how he had to lean on Jaskier as they went to a cabin. “I’m going to kill them,” he muttered about the pirates that were clearly laughing at him. “Soon as I can not fucking puke, I’m killing everyone.”

“Of course you are,” Jaskier said cheerfully as if he was talking to a toddler about their promise that they were going to fly or such. “You’ll show them. Later.” Geralt tried to growl, but it came out as dry heaves, because there was nothing left in him. Jaskier led them to a room and it wasn’t the captain’s quarters but it was surprisingly nice. “Here we are, first mate’s cabin.” 

Geralt sort of grunted and flopped on the bed. Oh fuck, that felt nice. 

“Geralt, those clothes have puke and piss on them, and we will be sleeping on that bed?” Geralt just grunted again. “Fine,” Jaskier replied and Geralt found hands were pushing at him, and he decided to be nice, roll with them until he was on his back. That was all the help that he was capable of. 

He felt Jaskier strip him completely down and he’d have objected if he was the sort to have any modesty, but he wasn’t. And his small clothes were beyond rank. Oh, no, that was him. Lovely. He wanted to care, but he was just too damn weak. “Our things?”

“Over there. They didn’t want to give you your stuff back until I pointed out, pirates attack, an armed witcher could be helpful.”

“Wouldn’t be much help.” He couldn’t lift an arm, let alone a sword.

“Maybe I suggested there was a potion in your bag that could help you,” Jaskier said. 

“Lied.”

“They are pirates, I won’t exactly be losing sleep over lying to them.” Jaskier could be heard moving about, and Geralt didn’t open his eyes. He heard a glug of water and whimpered. There was a small splash sound and the smell of lemon. And then the water was against his skin. Nothing had ever felt better. 

Jaskier was cleaning him all over, even his cock and when his hands lingered, Geralt knew he was thinking about the previous people he had been attached to. “No,” Geralt said. “Not us.”

“I would make you feel good. If you are coming, you are too busy to think about puking. I don’t mind.”

“I do. You don’t have any choice in this, so not happening.” To Geralt it was a very simple line drawn in the sand.

“I have some choice, and it would help.”

“So would clean clothes from my pack,” Geralt said. “And maybe drink some of that water? Why is there lemon?”

“Keeps sailors from getting sick, they said anyways.” Jaskier poured more water from the pitcher, into a cup this time, and added another squeeze of lemon. “Sit up,” he ordered and Geralt managed to get up. He took the mug. “Slow,” Jaskier urged as he went to a chest and rummaged. “Your clothes are all snug, looser would be better right now. And the first mate is bigger than you.” 

Geralt took a few sips of the water and waited for his stomach to revolt but it seemed to be staying down. He drank half the mug but didn’t want to risk more. He dressed and the clothes did feel fairly comfortable. “Where are they taking us?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but it definitely is passed Skellige.”

“There is nothing passed Skellige,” Geralt said. “No map has more, no boat has ventured and returned.”

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, and shrugged. “They say they have.”

“What do they want with us?” Geralt looked out the small porthole. All he could see was the sky. “None of my brethren will pay ransom for me, that is not our way. And you?”

“Geralt, no one ever wants me. I’m a curse, remember?”

Geralt gave him a deadpan look. “I remember.” He was tired of sitting up and lay back down. “How long until we get there?” Wherever there was.

“A few days, they said, depending on the gods.” Jaskier’s hand was on his knee, warm, comforting. “I have to go play some more. Pay for this room. You need to sleep.”

“If anyone hurts you, come get me.” He’d figure out a way to raise his sword, if he had to. “Don’t let them -” Geralt fell asleep midword. When he woke it was dark out the porthole, and his stomach rumbled. “Don’t pull that shit, you aren’t to be trusted.” He stood, was a bit weak but not as bad as before. He made his way up to the deck, and had to stop.

Not because he was tired from the walk, but because of the picture his gaze caught on.

Also because he was tired, but because he realized something.

Jaskier was a beautiful man. 

He was sitting there, on a barrel, oil lamps lighting the deck, a backdrop of black seas and a dark sky filled with more stars than he knew were there. His lute was in his hand and he was singing a song that hurt. It was the only way to describe it, the song was an aching bruise and all the pirates were enraptured. 

Jaskier had his eyes closed as he played, lost in the music. He was stunning. When the song ended, the pirates all clapped and Jaskier opened his eyes, tilted his head in a bow. “Any other requests? How about something naughty.” He looked over, and Geralt knew when he was seen. “Geralt, any requests?”

Geralt shook his head. He didn’t know the name of a single song. 

“Come now, you must have one?”

He shrugged, “You sang it a couple weeks ago? It had a line about a robber of the woods? He was a fox?”

“Reynard the fox? Oh I love that song, excellent pick.”

Geralt had just thought of it, because Jaskier reminded him of a fox. But he listened as Jaskier sang the jaunty tune and he did enjoy it. The boat shifted and he groaned. He made it to the railing and some bile poured out of his throat. 

“It is just painful to listen to ya,” a man said. When he touched Geralt, Geralt growled. “Shut it, wolf, you have no strength on the water, just as a fish has no strength on land.” Something was put around his wrist, points pressing in, and almost immediately something eased in him. “There ye go,” he said and walked away before Geralt could thank him. Another passed him some dried fish, and Geralt nibbled at it, shocked that it was staying down. 

A few other instruments were broken out and Geralt somehow ended up watching Jaskier party with the pirates who kidnapped them and were taking them past all sanity and known land.

He hadn’t been stuck with Jaskier that long, but long enough that he wasn’t even surprised. He ate a bit more, and watched Jaskier dance as he played increasingly bawdy songs. He saw Jaskier wink at a sailor and again thought maybe Jaskier could be happy here.

With the people who kidnapped him.

Yes, Geralt understood why that wasn’t a good idea, but still. It had to be a better option than himself. Geralt knew he was the wrong person for anybody, anytime. He didn’t have to worry about Jaskier’s safety, and decided to head back to the room.

On the way, he ran into the man who had drugged him. “I would kill you, but I have a feeling you are the only one who would be able to get us home.”

“Perhaps you won’t want to go home, after we show you what is out there.”

Geralt thought of Ciri who didn’t want him, of Yen who didn’t need him, of his brothers who would mourn and move on. There was nothing back on the continent, except the path, but that was enough. “What is out there is more of the same, perhaps just a different shade.”

“We travel through mist and dream soon, witcher. Guard your thoughts well, lest the mist steal your mind.”

Geralt just rolled his eyes and went to the cabin. He took off the shirt, and lay on the bed. The man acted like there were things in this world that could still surprise Geralt, and that was complete bullshit. He meditated until Jaskier came into the room. “Have fun?”

“I did,” Jaskier hiccuped. “I have discovered rum!”

Geralt wouldn’t laugh at the man. “How did you not know of rum?”

“Not a lot of time at docks and with sailors. Always ale or wine, not rum. Rummmmm, ruuuuuuummmm, rrrrrrruummmm.” Jaskier flopped on top of him. “You are pretty and shiny.”

“You are a lightweight.” He groaned when Jaskier bounced on him, because he had meant that metaphorically - the man actually weighed a fair bit. “How much did you have?”

“Dunno, they just kept sharing, they are nice pirates!”

“Very nice,” Geralt agreed and Jaskier did not hear the sarcasm in his voice. “The captain said we had to guard our minds, can you do that?”

“Of course!” Jaskier grinned at him. 

“Can you, because you speak every thought that crosses your mind.”

“Nu-uh, because if I did, one of the people I had been attached to would have killed me for the thoughts I had of them. They were not very nice thoughts. Shhh, don’t tell.”

Geralt found himself unable to resist the impulse. “And what do you think of me?”

“Oh that’s easy! You need me.” Jaskier nodded solemnly. “None of the others needed me. Wanted me, used me. Loathed me. But didn’t need me.”

“I need no one and nothing,” Geralt said, a harsh rasp in his throat.

“Nope, you need me because you are all sad and lonely and don’t know how to just tell people you need them. You want to be liked! Which is really silly.”

“Because I am unlikeable.”

“No, because you don’t see how much people like you.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, I do,” Jaskier said. “Now be a quiet bed, so I can sleep.”

“If you piss or vomit the rum onto me, I will murder you.”

“No, you won’t, because I think maybe if you let yourself admit it, you kind of like me too.” Jaskier yawned and hummed himself to sleep. And Geralt was stuck with that dead weight that he had just realized was attractive on top of him, the rocking of the ship moving them together. Geralt nudged and Jaskier rolled off, and kept rolling.

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed as he dove and caught Jaskier, and this time he was the one on top and Jaskier wrapped around him. He tried to ease Jaskier’s arms away but the bastard apparently gained strength as he slept, and would not let go. “Fuck,” Geralt had to whisper and he slowly relaxed his body and tried to ease down and out since he couldn’t pry the arms off without hurting Jaskier.

In response, Jaskier’s legs wrapped around him as well.

“Melitele my apologies for every crime I have ever committed,” Geralt begged. And Jaskier did not let go.

Fuck it all, he was exhausted, and Geralt moved them just enough so he wouldn’t squash Jaskier and let himself fall asleep.

He awoke not long later because of his wolf medallion burning his skin, and the screams of the pirates, the running of feet. “Jaskier wake up!” Geralt shouted.

“But I’m king of the bunnies,” Jaskier whined and tightened around Geralt.

Geralt would apologize later, but he needed the man awake. He twisted Jaskier’s ear hard until his eyes snapped open. “The ship is under attack. Get ready.”

Geralt swiftly dressed in his armor and strapped his swords on. He pocketed Thunderbolt, Cat, and a couple other potions and tossed his bag to Jaskier. “You need to carry that, along with anything else we can’t live without.”

Jaskier strapped Geralt’s bag and his lute on, their coin put into his pockets. He nodded and they left the cabin. “Shouldn’t we stay safe in there?” he asked.

“No,” Geralt touched the medallion and it scorched his skin. “No, there is no safety on this ship.”

They were on the main deck, and the gods that Geralt didn’t believe in, he began to pray to them. He downed all the potions in his pocket, not giving a fuck about toxicity because they were dead anyways. 

“Geralt? Please tell me you’ve seen something like that before?” Jaskier begged.

“Of course,” Geralt lied. Because no, he hadn’t seen whatever the fuck that was that they were staring at. Tentacles and eyes and mouths; it hurt to stare at it. “Captain?” he roared.

“We have the sacrifice, it will be fine!” The captain was at the helm, and steering. “Throw the sacrifice!” 

“Geralt!” Jaskier screamed as hands pulled him away. 

Geralt didn’t think, didn’t care, he threw aard and began to cut down the men who touched Jaskier. His eyes were black, and the extra strength that flowed through him was uncontrollable, and he didn’t particularly want to control it. He grabbed Jaskier, and put the bard behind him, at the stern of the ship and faced the crew. “Just try it,” he snarled.

“If we don’t feed it the bard, we all die,” the captain was trying to steer them away, and a tentacle slammed onto the boat.

“Then we all die,” Geralt shouted back.

“Geralt, maybe -”

“No, Jaskier.” Geralt held his sword steady. “No, you are worth more than their sacrifice.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad for you,” Jaskier replied.

Geralt knew what he was capable of in the state he was in. He could kill most of the pirate in front of him, but the monster that was as big as a castle, and it was growing increasingly angry. They were doomed. He put his sword away. “Start breathing, huge gulps,” he ordered Jaskier. The pirates thought he was giving in. They approached and another tentacle slammed the ship, and pulled the mast down.

Geralt turned and looked at Jaskier. “One last breath,” he said and wrapped his arms tightly around the bard. “And no matter what, don't let go.”

Geralt took a deep breath, and picked up Jaskier. He hopped up onto the side of the ship, and dropped them both into the roiling water below.

_“Oh Geralt, Vesemir just joined us, we really should stop and go back to the beginning to catch him up, it is only fair.”_

_“Don’t you dare!”_

_“Yennefer are you interested in the story?”_

_“It has a nominal bit of entertainment to it.”_

_“What happened? Did you die?”_

_“Ciri, how could we have died, we are sitting right here?"_

_“I don’t know, maybe you died and got better?”_

_“We didn’t die and get better.”_

_“Geralt, I couldn’t help but notice in your telling there that you called me stunning, and beautiful?”_

_“No I didn’t.”_

_“You did.”_

_“No.”_

_“I heard it.”_

_“You heard nothing.”_

_“I heard it too!”_

_“Thank you, Ciri, we’ll make sure to have Triss check your hearing since you are having auditory hallucinations.”_

_“I heard it as well.”_

_“Quite romantic actually, plunging to your doom, holding each other.”_

_“Lambert, shut the fuck up, it was playing the odds.”_

_“With your stunning and beautiful bard.”_

_“And every day I regret playing those odds.”_

_“Do you?”_

_“...”_

_“That wasn’t an answer, Geralt. But fine, we’ll pretend you don’t like me. As I said, back to the beginning for Vesemir’s sake.”_

_“NOOOOOO!”_

_“Don’t tease them, Jaskier, just fucking tell the next disaster that happened.”_

_“Of course, I discovered that rum is the worst hangover of all time.”_

_“And?”_

_“Oh yes, and of course, the ocean pulled us apart no matter how we held on.”_


	10. Chapter 10

Geralt didn’t register that the sand was black and the water green when he opened his eyes. He didn’t notice the butterflies the size of a dinner plate circling him. He didn’t even notice his medallion almost burning his skin.

All he noticed was that Jaskier wasn’t in his arms, and he was nowhere to be seen on the beach. He sat up, swatted the creatures away. He stood and retched as bodies rolled onto the shore near him. But none were Jaskier. He had been out. Even if they were separated his being unconscious should have brought Jaskier to his side.

Unless unconscious didn’t count.

Geralt settled into a meditation, not able to go all the way down but enough. He meditated for an hour, but he didn’t need to open his eyes to know Jaskier wasn’t there. He couldn’t smell him.

He couldn’t feel him; the bard crackled with so much energy that Geralt just practically felt his aura. Geralt stood and now the bodies washing up on shore were half or mostly eaten. Luckily Jaskier’s clothes had been different enough from the pirates that even when there was just a limb, he knew it didn’t belong to Jaskier.

Geralt lightly ran up and down the strange beach, as he ignored the bugs that wanted him to travel into the forests that shone and were the wrong colour. “Jaskier!” he shouted. “Jaskier!” There was no answer and he wasn’t panicking. They had just been on a ship, facing a monster that was almost unfathomable for even a witcher. And now there was an impossible island passed the end of the world.

If all that could happen, then Jaskier could be fucking alive out there and if he was, he’d be called to Geralt. Geralt called a few more times and there was nothing.

One of the creatures swatted their wing across his face. “Fine,” Geralt snarled and let them guide him into the woods. He started to pull out the sword that somehow miraculously survived the swim with him. But the noise in the woods went from a buzz to a shriek and he left the sword sheathed.

He walked and each step burned the ground, he wondered what that meant. Perhaps just that he didn’t belong. He was uncomfortable in this space. He wasn’t supposed to be there.

No one was supposed to be there.

He breathed in and for a moment he thought he caught the scent of Ciri, but then dismissed it, because that was impossible. Maybe it was a hope, borne of the fear that he’d never see her again.

_“You were scared you wouldn’t see me again?”_

_“I was.”_

_“But you don’t -”_

_“I do.”_

_“Then why?”_

_“Because”_

_“Ohhhh”_

_“Full sentences would actually be useful and helpful.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Melitele, they even said that in unison. That is just bizarre.”_

_“Always knew they’d sync up if Geralt got his head out of his ass. Guess Ciri will be traveling with you from now on.”_

_“If you -”_

_“If you -”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Weird.”_

  
  


He could almost smell everyone he cared about, but nowhere in there was Jaskier. Not that he cared. Much. But still, after everything the bard had gone through he deserved better than to die from a monster or the sea. Because likely Geralt would die here as well, and they’d both be forgotten. He didn’t think a person like Jaskier should be forgotten. 

Geralt let the creatures guide him and somehow the woods grew both darker and brighter at the same time. There were plants moving and he itched to blast out igni at them because he had a bad history with vines that moved like that, and flowers that looked like they had mouths, but he didn’t, he just let himself be moved through on a path that was there only long enough for him to step forward. The once glance back showed there was no way out, the woods were closing around him. They had walked enough he shouldn’t hear the ocean as he did but a little bit later he understood.

He was taken to a clearing. It hurt his eyes, how glittery and bright it was. The water he was hearing was a whirlpool. It was so loud and in the middle of it, above it was a monster. Holding Jaskier against its chest.

And Jaskier was alive, a scrape on his cheek the only damage from being shipwrecked by a monster so huge that Geralt couldn’t even describe, and being fed fruit by a creature who seemed to be a part of the whirlpool.

“AGAIN?” Geralt shouted.

“Look, I honestly don’t know how this keeps happening either,” Jaskier stopped singing, and the creature whined which caused the whirlpool to churn angrily. “Ignore him,” Jaskier soothed. “Now then,” he began to sing again, at the end of a stanza was fed a bit of fruit. He looked quite comfortable. 

Geralt stood there at the edge of the whirlpool and waited. “Well?”

“Look, if I could explain it, I would, but apparently I just seem to be kidnapped by lovely individuals who just really like me?” Jaskier smiled up at the creature. “I am just that charismatic.”

“A harpy, the brothel, pirates, and now a god. Wonderful. I cannot decide if you have the worst luck or the best.”

“I generally assumed the worst luck, since you know cursed and all. And did you say god?”

Geralt sighed. “This is a land that shouldn’t exist, Jaskier. It is past magic. This is a refuge, you are being cradled by an almost forgotten sea god. One that the pirates I am guessing worship. The monster we were being sacrificed to? Manifestation of them is my guess.”

“Oh,” Jaskier looked up at them. “Hello.” Water lifted up and caressed his cheek and then so did one of the many arms. “Would you like another song?” There were happy little splashes in the water, and Jaskier sang a jaunty song. 

The whole island seemed happier. Geralt had met godlings, unimaginable monsters, the most powerful mages ever since the conjunction. But never a true god. He knelt on the banks of the whirlpool out of respect. He bowed his head and wanted to say something. All he could come up with was ancient words of the witchers, of their duty and promise to the world. 

Water lapped against his cheek and pulled him in, and he let it. He might die, but well this was a better death than he ever thought he’d get. But he wasn’t killed but held in arms with Jaskier. He looked at Jaskier. “I was scared. I meditated and you didn’t return to my side.”

“Well, if this is a god, then...I think god trumps fairy curse?” Jaskier looked up. “Is that it you are more powerful than the curse?” Geralt watched the god poke Jaskier’s nose. “Thank you for the boop,” Jaskier said and the god laughed. It made Geralt’s ears ring. “If I stay here, with you, the curse no longer has me does it?”

Fuck. Geralt looked at the god who nodded and booped Jaskier’s nose again. They couldn’t stay here, it wasn’t a place they were meant for.

He realized though, that Jaskier had been talking in the singular. Not them staying, but Jaskier staying here, free of him. Geralt cleared his throat. “I would want your promise,” Geralt whispered. He didn’t dare speak a normal volume right now.

“What promise?”

“Not you, you idiot. I trust your word as far as I can throw you,” Geralt glared at him. “The god. I want them to swear, on the pain of being forgotten, that if Jaskier stays, he will be treated well always. Cared for, never abandoned where the curse returns and attaches him to someone else unworthy of him.”

“You think -”

“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt growled. The god was changing colours and he had no idea what that meant, whether it was good or he was about to be vivisected. “That if you grow weary of him, as the infinite often does with mortality, that you send him to...Triss Merigold. Swear it.”

“Why not you?”

“Because, after everything you have been through, you deserve...better.”

“You are so sure she is better than you?”

Geralt laughed a bit. “I ran from destiny, from love, from my child, I’ve run from everything this world has to offer, the only thing I’ve ever run to was monsters.”

The god cupped his cheek and shook its head, Geralt didn’t know what that meant. “Can you return me to our lands?” There was a small nod. “Do you promise?”

There was a trill and the whirlpool stilled for a moment. And his medallion singed his skin. “Thank you,” Geralt said. The waters seemed to change directions and he could see the bottom of the whirlpool. “Jaskier?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to stay here, where you are free?” Geralt looked at him.

“It is tempting,” Jaskier admitted.

“Here it might work.” Geralt nodded. “I release you from your bonds to me. Try not to get kidnapped again?” He took a deep breath and looked at the god. “I will live hopefully a long time. I will not forget you,” he promised.

_Ocoftenia_

The name rang in his mind, the way the consonants fell was different than he had ever heard before and he held the word close. He nodded to Jaskier. “You seem to be lucky after all, landing here.”

Geralt looked into the whirlpool and jumped.

When he landed the wind was completely knocked out of him, and he just lay there, eyes closed. It smelled like home. The god had sent him home. He ached a bit, and blamed it on the fall, not that Jaskier was someplace he couldn’t reach.

Damn fool was going to get himself in trouble again, and Geralt wouldn’t be able to help him. Fuck, maybe he should have stayed, because inevitably Jaskier was going to do something stupid. Shit. He had abandoned Jaskier to a god, and it was Jaskier. He’d be dead in a week. Geralt had to find a way back. He started to sit up and was knocked down when something landed on him.

He was about to cast aard, blast it away when he realized that it was Jaskier. Jaskier had fallen on him; Jaskier had jumped through the whirlpool.

Jaskier.

Geralt pushed him off. “You fucking idiot. You were free!”

“Yes, but -”

“With a god!” Geralt began to pace.

“I know, but -”

“In an actual magical paradise, that would have lasted for the length of your life.” Geralt pointed at him. “You finally were kidnapped by someone, something that maybe didn’t suck.”

“Sure, but -”

“Jaskier! Is this you running away again, like how you did when you got cursed in the first place?"

“Will you just let me fucking speak?” Jaskier shouted. “I’m not the idiot you are!”

“No man has ever been as stupid as you!”

“Well, you are standing right there, stupider than I can even fathom being so clearly I am not the stupidest man ever.”

“I’m not a man, it doesn’t count!” Geralt found himself gesturing as he shouted at Jaskier. “Ugh, why do you have to matter so much?”

“What?”

Geralt was getting ready to yell at him some more when a portal opened and Yen walked through.

“You did something that made the whole world shake, darling. Tsk tsk,” Yennefer crossed her arms. “Ciri has missed you.”

“I’m dealing with something right now.”

“Yes, romantic spat. Bit different than your usual taste, but you can spat after you come and talk to Ciri.”

“I hate portals, we’ll ride and meet you at -”

“Why are we walking when there is a portal right there? You are proving that stupidest man thing really well.” 

“Fine,” Geralt snarled. And after that scent of her, Geralt did want to see her. He looked at Jaskier. “Have you done portals before?”

“I have,” Jaskier said, “Someone before you employed a sorcerer regularly."

Geralt tried not to think of all the people that Jaskier was tied to before him, because if he did, he’d have to get their names, and kill them all. “I fucking hate them.” Portals, and those previous people.

“I could hold your hand,” Jaskier offered and he was there, palm up.

Geralt took it.

“Interesting. He’s cursed you know.”

“I am aware,” Geralt replied. “We’ll talk about it later.”

They all stepped through the portal and the past was all caught up to the present when after a night of rest and recuperation they relayed their story to all that were gathered.


	11. Chapter 11

“Wait, I have a question,” Ciri leaned forward from where she was by the fire.

“I have about thirty,” Yennefer commented. “Jaskier, may I?”

“You already cast on me this morning, to assess the curse.”

“No magic,” she said and Geralt looked at her. She had that gleam in her eyes that suggested she had a theory and wanted to test it.

“No,” Geralt said firmly. “He isn’t one of your plans. Schemes where you do something, and then get to tell us how clever you are.”

Ciri’s hand went in the air. “I had a question.”

“Geralt, I promise that I have the answers, but if I explain it, it may not work.”

“You always say something like that, and yes you are usually right, but there is often a lot of carnage in your wake. And Jaskier has gone through enough shit, he won’t be broken in your wake.”

“Excuse me?” Ciri stood up, was waving her hands.

“I am right, and if you just let me do the thing, then everyone will know I am right!”

“Not if you won’t say what it is, you fucking -”

“JASKIER IF YOU WERE FREE IN PARADISE WHY DID YOU JUMP AFTER GERALT BACK INTO A WORLD WHERE YOU ARE TRAPPED!” Ciri shouted at the top of her lungs. The room shook a bit and then settled.

Geralt paused being mad at Yen and her secrets. He turned to look at Jaskier. “Actually, why did you do that?”

“Paradise, who needs that?” Jaskier shrugged.

“You are lying,” Geralt moved forward a bit. “Why did you jump after me?”

“To tell you, that you were wrong.”

Now that, Geralt could utterly believe. “What was I so wrong about that you had to give up your freedom and being the beloved of a fucking god?”

“One, that wasn’t freedom. That was just freedom from the curse,” Jaskier pointed out, “Two we don’t actually know if it was a fucking god, and if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have stayed, because you are well aware how much I like sex.”

Geralt thought of their stops at brothels. “I am, my daughter doesn’t need to be.”

“You called me your daughter.” 

“Because you are, even if I have been dreadful.”

“You could learn to be better?” Ciri suggested and Geralt nodded. He liked how her face lit up at his promise. But they needed to stay focused, there would be time to figure out their relationship going forward. 

Geralt turned back to Jaskier. “What was I so wrong about that made you give up paradise to tell me about it?”

“You don’t only run towards monsters,” Jaskier had a look on his face that Geralt couldn’t quite understand. It was frustrated and soft, so many things that he couldn’t understand. “You also ran to me.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You were shit at the beginning, but not so shit as everyone else. But you didn’t have a use for me, you just wanted to be rid of me. And you could have been. Many times.”

“So fucking many,” Geralt agreed. “You attract trouble.”

“I know, but every time, every chance you had to run away, let fate take its course, free you. You didn’t.” Jaskier took a couple steps forward. “You ran _to_ me, Geralt. Again and again. So I thought, I don’t know, that it was my turn, to run to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t care if I am cursed to follow you forever,” Jaskier snapped. “Because you are interesting and kind in your own bastardy way, and I always wanted to run away too, but here I am not wanting to at all. I’m happy stuck to you, I want to stay stuck to you.”

Geralt would have responded but a wind whipped through the room and everyone was knocked down. He rolled and wrapped himself around Ciri to protect her as the winds tore through the room, as everyone was trying to get back up. 

When it calmed, Geralt looked and there was one of the fae standing in front of Jaskier.

“You broke the curse, but you were too stupid to ever be loyal, how?” She looked furious.

“I found someone worth being loyal to,” Jaskier replied to her calmly. “I am sorry, that I broke your heart, broke my promise.”

That seemed to give her pause but then she frowned. “No, not fun anymore if you win.” She was clearly getting ready to do more mischief and Geralt gestured. Yen’s magic silenced her, and Geralt’s silver sword swung and beheaded her.

“Well, fuck, I think she was a princess or something Geralt.”

“The rules of the fae are clear,” Yennefer said. “You broke the curse as it was laid on you. The matter is then done. She was going to betray that promise of a curse ended is a curse ended. We were within our rights to stop her. There will be no retribution. Jaskier, you have freed yourself.”

“I see,” Jaskier was staring at the body. “I didn’t remember what she looked like.” Geralt picked up her body and head and took them outside to burn the corpse. He said the rites of the fae and watched the flames. 

He wasn’t surprised when Jaskier came outside. “When do you leave?” he asked.

“In the morning,” Jaskier said. “Unless you ask me to stay.”

“We annoy each other.”

“We do.”

“You are so much.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Fair,” Geralt agreed. “I need to,” wasn't quite right. “I want to fix things with Ciri.”

“That is good.”

Geralt looked at him as they stood next to the burning corpse of the one who had cursed him. “I would very much like to ask you to stay.”

“Why?”

“I have no real fucking clue,” Geralt shrugged.

“Ask me.”

“I won’t,” Geralt replied. “And you know that.”

“I do.” They stood near the flames. “I...do you get it? That I would have happily stayed cursed to you?” Geralt nodded. “And if you don’t ask, you understand why I am leaving?” Geralt nodded again. “There we are then.”

They stood there not saying another word, until the flames died down, Jaskier’s pinkie hooked over his. In the morning, Geralt pretended to be asleep when Jaskier came into the room and kissed his head. “I hope...perhaps I’ll follow you again one day,” Jaskier whispered and left.

Geralt lay there and it was so quiet without Jaskier; he’d barely be down the lane he could chase after the man, beg to lead him again. But he stayed in his bed. Perhaps. One day.

_18 months later_

It was just a casual gwent tourney in a decent brothel. He had no intentions of availing himself of their services, but he had learned that buying a room at a brothel was a lot safer for Ciri than taverns, and they tended to have what she needed to make travel more comfortable for a young woman.

It was going well and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to the other tables, who was winning and losing - just stayed focused on the person in front of him. He won and stayed put, another coming to the table.

“I’m playing Northern Realms,” Geralt said, and shuffled his cards.

“I’m playing monsters,” the voice said.

Geralt had recognized the scent as the man had sat down, but hadn’t dared look up, just in case his mind was playing tricks on him, as it had on many a long night, or when he heard singing in a tavern. 

But he looked up and Jaskier was there, smiling at him. “So where have you been?”

“Places,” Geralt replied. Jaskier won the coin toss and he waited for the man to begin.

Jaskier lay down his card, “Where are you going?”

“Different places,” Geralt put down his card. “Ciri wants to head south.”

“South could be interesting. Pass.”

Geralt won the first round and damn well knew it was a trap. The second round he passed quickly, to make the third a hard battle. “How have you been?”

“Free,” Jaskier put down a card and Geralt did the same. “You?”

“Usual.”

Jaskier nodded and hurt his own cards to hurt Geralt even more. “I suppose traveling with Ciri is more than enough company for you.”

“It has been,” Geralt agreed and canceled the weather cards out. “But she has adopted to my ways. It’s quiet.”

“You like the quiet.”

“I found myself missing certain noises,” Geralt admitted, shit he was going to lose, but he’d go to the bitter end on principle. 

“Did you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Jaskier smiled faintly and won the game, “Perhaps one day, is today?”

Geralt leaned across the table and kissed him. He had no idea why he did it, but he was glad he did with the way Jaskier melted against him. “Perhaps,” he agreed.

The next day the three of them headed south and Jaskier regaled them with tales of his adventures over the months apart. Geralt was both sick of and appreciated the noise within an hour. 

There were also a few more kisses when they camped at night and tried to figure out exactly what they meant to each other, who they would be now that they were choosing to be together.

They’d figure it out though, after a few dozen bickering fights.

A week later, Geralt wished he was surprised. “You got kidnapped by a bog hag.”

“Look at all the treasure, focus on that,” Jaskier urged.

It was a fair bit of treasure and he had really enjoyed killing her for touching what was his.

“You are a giant pain in the ass.”

“You love me.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

Geralt smiled a bit and walked away, leading Jaskier out of the bog once their bags were full, and Jaskier happily followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and again my thanks to the incredible artist that I had the privilege of working with.


End file.
